On Deadly Ground (11 page)

“Jake, hi,” she said, smiling.

His voice was low and worried. “Hi. I thought you were going to call when you got to Williamsburg.”

“I was and I will. But I just got here. I haven’t even had time to say hello to my dad or unpack yet.” Her
mother sent her a smile and a raised eyebrow, and Rachel smiled back. “Let me call you back in a little while. I need to catch up with my folks first.”

“I hope it goes well.”

“Me, too. Keep your fingers crossed.” Then she dropped her voice, said, “Talk to you soon” and slipped the phone back in her pocket.

“That was your neighbor? The game protector who lives down the road from you?”

Rachel laughed. “Mom, I know that look, and it’s not what you think. He just called to make sure I got here safely.”

“But he was concerned about you?”

“Maybe a little,” she replied, trying not to put too much importance on the call—for both of their sakes. “Why?”

Annie Morgan released a lung-clearing sigh and smiled. “No reason, except that I think … I think I’m less worried about you now.”

T
ired from driving straight through from Williams-burg, Rachel clicked on her left-turn signal and turned down the long driveway into her campground. She’d left her parents’ home early enough to beat most of the traffic, but she’d gotten tied up on I-64 anyway. Now dusk was approaching, and the descending sun streaked the sky with golden pinks and purples. Still, she felt relatively safe, despite returning this late. She’d called Jenna with her ETA a while ago, and one of the guys would be patrolling the grounds. She’d just check out the campground, grab a cold drink, then head to town.

The first things she noticed when her camp store came into view were Jake’s truck parked beside the utility barn, and Maggie scouting the tall ferns and undergrowth down near the second camping loop. Then she saw Jake walking up from the wreckage that had been her home. As she’d come to expect now, Rachel felt a warm glow of attraction. He’d been out running again. His loose-fitting gray tank top and denim cutoffs showcased a lot of tan and a well-toned physique. She’d missed him these past two days.

That warm glow faded when she spotted her door. Quickly parking beside the store, she got out and took
another look. Twenty yards away, Jake was closing the distance between them.

“Welcome back,” he called. Taking a white hand towel from his back pocket, he wiped his face. Damp brown hair in need of a trim clung to his forehead.

“Thanks. It’s good to be back. Where’s my door?”

“Right where it should be. Hanging on its hinges.”

“My
wooden
door,” she returned, fairly certain he didn’t need the clarification. “The door with the new glass pane.”

He was beside her now, a bit of exertion still coloring his voice. “Gone, but not forgotten apparently. You’ll like the steel door better. I know I will. It didn’t take much effort on your part to smash out the glass and get inside the night of the fire. Someone else could do the same.”

Flicking him a warning glance, she opened the screen door, then her new windowless door and stepped inside. “You can’t do things like this.”

“I didn’t.” He followed her in. “Keys are on the counter.”

“Then who did?” She couldn’t imagine Clarissa arranging it. And how had Joe Reston and the Atkins brothers failed to notice someone replacing a door? Everyone had her cell phone number, and they’d promised to use it if anything out of the ordinary happened.

“Okay,” Jake said, dropping to a stool. “I bought the door, but Ben Caruthers donated the locks and hardware, and suggested a local carpenter to install it. Beau Travis. There was no charge. Travis said you knew each other from church.”

Rachel winced. “We do, but we’re not close. For that matter, neither are Ben and I.” Slipping behind the lunch
counter, she took two Pepsis from her refrigerator, then slid one across the bar to Jake. “I’ll write you a check. Ben and Beau, too.”

“I won’t cash it.”

“Then I’ll find another way to repay you.”

“Rachel,” he said, sighing. “Why can’t you just—?”

“Because I’m not comfortable with charity when I’m the recipient. When you said you wanted to make a few changes, I half expected you to hang another motion light and post a Protected by Smith & Wesson sign out front. A steel door is excessive. It’s too much and it’s too expensive.”

“Then I guess it’s best that I didn’t buy the travel trailer.” He popped the tab on his soda.

Rachel stared in numb disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“No. I considered it, but I was afraid you’d get ticked off.”

“You were right.” Shaking her head, she marched out to her car, grabbed her pen and checkbook from the locked glove box and returned to sit beside him. “How much for the door?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have a receipt.”

“Look,” she said, frustrated now, “I might have to rely on my friends for a sympathetic ear or a shoulder to cry on occasionally. But so much has happened that I have no control over, that I need to handle the things I can. My parents, Clarissa, you, Ben and half the town think I’m about to curl into a ball and roll away. That’s not going to happen. Now, how much?”

Finally seeming to understand, Jake nodded apologetically. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been billed yet, but I’ll give you the invoice when it comes in.” He hesitated.
“And if you think you absolutely have to, you can add a few bucks for—”

A long, high-pitched beep sounded, and Rachel stood quickly to look around. “What was that?”

Jake sent her another rueful look. “I was getting to that. A vehicle just broke the beam of the electronic sensor near the top of your driveway. You’re getting company.”

Rachel didn’t know whether to thank him for caring or throw him out. David had always sheltered her, and after his passing, she’d come to value her independence. She didn’t want anyone making decisions that affected her life without her knowledge—no matter what their motives were.

“I’ll need the bill for that, too,” she said, heading for the screen door to watch for her “company.”

“You’re angry,” Jake said.

She turned back to him. “No. The alarm was a good idea. Thank you. It’ll be great while I’m here alone, but when my guests start coming in, it’ll have to be disabled.”

“That won’t be a problem. I’ll take care of it.”

“Good.”

Tires crunched over limestone chips as a police cruiser rolled past the screen door and pulled in next to Rachel’s Explorer. Pulse quickening, she went out to meet Chief Lon Perris. But as he shut off the engine and exited the vehicle, she experienced a niggling feeling of apprehension. His lean, pockmarked features were set in stone, and there was a coolness in his black eyes that told her trouble was on the way.

“Good evening, Mrs. Patterson.”

“Good evening,” she repeated, showing him inside,
then motioning him to a stool near Jake. When Perris chose to remain standing, Rachel did the same. Jake rose, too.

“How was your trip?” he asked. “I looked for you at the bed and breakfast, but Ms. Harper told me you’d planned to stop here on your way back from Virginia.”

“It was very nice, thank you. But you didn’t drive down here to ask about my visit.”

“No, I didn’t.” He gave Jake a once-over, then shifted his gaze back to Rachel. “I thought I should tell you in person that we’ve ID’d the victim. Dental records confirmed that he was the former owner of the local lumber mill.”

Stunned, she spoke in a hushed voice. “Bryce? Bryce Donner?”

Jake looked at her. “You knew him?”

“As a matter of fact, she did,” Perris said before Rachel could speak. “Mrs. Patterson and the deceased were what some people used to call ‘an item.’ Maybe they still do. She and Mr. Donner were high school steadies and had a nearly two-year relationship after that before she broke it off.” He paused. “Or have I been misinformed?”

Rachel shook her head, still trying to comprehend how Bryce could be those skeletal remains. He’d made enemies while he was alive, but did anyone deserve such a horrifying death and burial? “We … we dated sporadically. But that was years ago. How did you—”

“—know about it?” he asked. “You’ve lived here your whole life. You should know that the locals have long memories. I’m sorry for your loss.”

He was sorry for
her
loss? What was going on here?

“And now,” Perris said, with a pointed glance at Jake. “Maybe it would be best if we finished speaking about this privately.”

Rachel hid her growing concern. “No. Jake can hear anything you have to say to me.”

“Fine. Then I understand your late-husband used to work for Mr. Donner—and that Donner was a guest at your wedding down here in the woods.”

Rachel’s pulse accelerated. Suddenly she knew where this was going. “David changed jobs after our marriage.”

“Which is certainly understandable,” Perris returned coolly. “I’d have done the same if Donner had gotten all liquored up and tried to do more than kiss my bride. Except, your husband didn’t quit, did he? He was fired.”

Jake felt every hair on his head prickle, and he slid a cautious look at Rachel. She’d gone pale. His protective instincts kicked in. “Mind if I ask what any of this has to do with your investigation, Chief?” But he knew. Oh, yeah. He knew.

“Your screams brought Patterson and several witnesses running,” Perris went on, ignoring Jake’s question. “And in short order, Mr. Donner had a broken nose and cheekbone, and your brand-new husband was out of a job.” He gave her a moment to digest that. “Now I’d like to know how deeply your hatred for Mr. Donner went. Yours and your husband’s.”

How she managed to keep her tone cool and polite was a mystery to Jake.

“Neither of us would have ever taken a life. And if you’ve been asking around about Bryce, then you know that the number of people he hurt in one way or the
other is legion. Also, the coroner said Bryce was in the ground for four or five years—and that fight happened a good year beforehand. Why would David or I wait that long to confront Bryce?”

“I couldn’t say. But to paraphrase Shakespeare, some people think revenge is a dish best served cold.”

Jake stood, unable to harness his irritation. “You’re not making sense. First of all, you should be looking for the man Rachel saw at the construction site. Second, someone just tried to burn her home to the ground with her in it. Third, why would she have the land cleared if she knew about—or was responsible for—those bones being there?”

“Mrs. Patterson was the only one who saw the alleged intruder, and her home was adequately insured. I know that because I checked. As for her developing the land, what better way to allay suspicion from her and her husband?”

Angry tears glistened in Rachel’s eyes, and her voice shook. “Are you charging me with something?”

“Not at all. I’m just checking out rumors and doing my job. You’re not the only person I’ve spoken with today.”

“In that case,” she said, striding to the screen door and opening it wide. “Thank you for stopping by.”

“Thank you for your time,” he said, either missing her point or choosing to ignore it. “I’ll be in touch.”

When the screen door had banged shut behind him, Rachel spun from the entry. She was a whirlwind of nerves as she snapped on the light switch beside the door, chasing the evening shadows. “God help me, I want to do something nasty to that man.”

Jake felt the same way, and nothing he considered was legal. “He’s a jerk. Don’t let him get to you.”

“How can I not?” Tears splashed over her lower lashes, and she took an impatient swipe at them. “David would never have done anything like that. He was kind and gentle, and he lived the commandments. I doubt he ever completely forgave Bryce, but he would never, ever have taken his life. It’s not who he was, and I’m not going to let Perris or anyone else ruin his good name.”

Jake fell silent, feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge flitting at the edges of his mind. Ten years ago, his grandmother had remarried after being widowed for five years. But before she’d said “I do,” she’d come to him, knowing how close he and his granddad had been. She’d told him she would always love his granddad, and she wished with all of her heart that they could still be together. But that wasn’t possible. Now she had to be content with her memories … and move on.

Would Rachel ever be able to do that?

Maybe, in time.

But Jake knew about time. It marched on and waited for no one, and eventually ran out. For a man who wanted a home and family someday, time was of the essence.

Slowly, he dropped to a stool again, knowing that as convoluted as his feelings for her were, he’d do what he could to ease her mind. If she wanted to preserve her late-husband’s good name, he’d help her. But doing more than that was a mistake.

“Maybe we should look into Donner’s murder, too,” he said. “Perris is an unknown commodity. If he’s lazy about police work—and I’m not saying he is—he could
stick your husband with the murder, and he’s not here to defend himself.”

“David won’t have to defend himself,” Rachel said testily. “I will.” She looked at him. “How do we begin?”

“By asking questions, the same as Perris does.”

“Like what?”

“Like who wanted to scratch Donner off his or her Christmas list. You told Perris that the number of people he’d hurt or messed with is legion. We need to talk to them, and to others who knew him.” Jake paused. “But for now, you’ve had a long day. Are you ready to head back to the Blackberry?”

She was.

A half hour later, after they’d wished Wes Atkins good-night and left Maggie in her pen, they entered the Blackberry and threaded their way through the foyer, living room and short hall. They paused outside the formal dining room where Jenna and her great-aunt Molly were discussing the morning menu over tea.

The older woman looked up and smiled.

With a rustle of her floor-length rose taffeta skirt, she swept through the dining room’s open French doors to give Rachel a warm hug. Molly Jennings was a tiny white-haired pixie with a feathery cap cut and twinkling blue eyes, who loved dressing in period clothing. She stood nearly five-feet tall in her high button shoes, and Rachel knew the cameo pinned to her long-sleeved, fussy white blouse had been a gift from her late-husband.

“How wonderful to see you, honey,” she cooed, eighty-odd years of smiles creasing her pretty features.

“You, too,” Rachel said.

“I just wish you were staying with us under different circumstances.”

“I guess Jenna told you everything.”

“She did,” Molly said, releasing her and stepping back. “And I don’t like it a bit. Unfortunately, there’s nothing an old woman can do about it except give you a bed to sleep in and pray this dreadful business is over soon.”

“Prayers and a bed are more than enough,” Rachel replied. “Thank you.”

Molly and her husband, Charles, had never been blessed with children, but over the years, Molly had loved and claimed many “nieces and nephews.” Rachel was one of them. Jenna was special, though. She wasn’t merely a blood relative, she was also the closest thing the Jenningses had ever had to a daughter. They had been honored when Jenna’s parents had named her after them.